Category Archives: Relationships

Jun 11 2022
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Relationships

the smallest grasp

My friend’s youngest is learning how to walk. TBH, if I were her, I’d keep letting suckers like me pick her up to snuggle until I’m 18, but apparently that’s not how developmental stages work.

Not long ago I was sitting on her kitchen floor, arms outstretched, coaxing her to take a step or two. She’d done it before, so we knew the feat could be mastered, but she was paralyzed in a tiny little 16 month old stance. Making eye contact with me, looking at my hands, my fingertips just out of reach of hers. I balled up my fist and offered her just my pinky – because we’re classy ladies. #pinkysout
She took the tiniest hold on the tip of my tiniest finger and immediately raced across the tiled floor into my arms.

I scooped her up, we yelled “YAY!!”, and tried again.

I’ve been thinking about that small, necessary grasp a lot since then.

Thinking about how often I am paralyzed, reaching out for the smallest point of connection in order to move forward. And once I have that connection, how easy it is to run with zero hesitation.

Thinking about how, often, Holy Spirit is just waiting for me to take a step on my own. How Jesus – my Savior and Example – is cheering me on, knowing that I’ve done it before and I can do it again and it is okay to trust myself.

How just the smallest grasp – the tiniest tip – of connection and safety can propel forward soul-shifting action.

Often all I’m looking for with Jesus is a point of connection. His pinky finger outstretched in front of me.

The thing I hope this little one knows is that my pinky will always be there to grab hold of.
The thing I hope I never forget is that Jesus is always there to grab hold of.

Movement forward doesn’t need gigantic signs of confirmation, perfection in the steps to be taken, or zero-risk on the road ahead.

It just needs the smallest grasp.

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Apr 27 2022
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Relationships

where are your sons?

It was a precious question from a curious boy that caught me totally off guard on a sunny afternoon.

“Like, children?”
“Yeah, where are they?”
“Well, I don’t have any yet…”

This sweet moment of curiosity that led to this miniBFF affirming that he would, in fact, be friends with my sons when I have them, but he would also be older than them so we would have to establish that once they could understand, but not when they were babies because babies can’t understand…(this is a runon sentence isn’t it…)

This moment led to a deeper moment about hope.

His mom and I got to talk with him about how I want to marry someone that loves God and wants to do what God says is right. That I want to marry someone who is kind to me and encourages me. And that if he knows of anyone, hook ya gurl up.

He also noted that I probably couldn’t marry his dad. Which is correct. That would be weird.

As he went back to chilling in the sunny April afternoon, his mom and I went in on hope.

How terrible and necessary and terribly necessary it is.
How we can’t live without it, but living with it means opening yourself up to the possibility of earth shattering heartbreak.

Yet.

The hope we have does not put us to shame.
The hope that we have can never be taken away.
The hope that we have is kept in heaven, unfading and undefiled for us.

As someone who walked close by as the thing I hoped for escaped me, she knows how tricky my relationship with hope is.

I don’t like that is necessary.
But I know it’s the only thing I have.
Hope that God is a God of redemption and restoration and resurrection.
Hope that all things will be made new.
Hope that someday I will have a husband and children, so that my miniBFF can have some younger friends to remind how old he is.

On a recent episode of Coffee with Kailey, Annie F. Downs says this about hope: “I’d rather die full of hope and the Lord and I have to look each other in the eyes and be like, ‘Who’s holding this one?’ I would rather be full of hope until the end – which you have to fight for and you have to choose – than to go, ‘You know what, forget it I’m not going to want anymore. Because when you stop wanting food is when you lose nutrition and nutrients and your body wastes away. When we stop our desires, we actually don’t get healthy, we get emaciated. And I can’t do that to my hope. So we’re going to keep feeding hope.”

And that’s it.

I don’t always want to hope. Because it hurts. Anyone who has actually hoped for something and not gotten it will tell you it capital H hurts.

But pretending that I don’t have hope.
Putting my desires in a box that I never intend to open while they gather dust and waste away.

That will kill me.

As Annie said, I’d rather die full of hope and deal with it for all of eternity in the presence of my redemptive Savior than spend my life wasting away.

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Dec 16 2020
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Relationships

the gift of presence

First of all, this will not be a Christmastime Jesus Juke about how you shouldn’t buy presents. I’m too shallow for something like that.

Still buy presents.
Presents are fun.

And this really is not specifically tied to Christmastime anyway. It’s tied to my refrigerator.

There is no secret about what I thought my life would look like at the age I am now. I thought I would have a husband, at least one kid, and at least one house. To-date, I have no husbands, no kids, and an apartment. Like most single people that I know, my heart longs for a family that I create with a man that loves me enough to give me his last name. (That unintentionally sounds like a potentially bad country song. My apologies.)

I grew hearing things like, “Well, work on being content in the Lord, and once you’re fully satisfied in Him, He will bring you the right man!” and “Just keep working on being the best wife you can be so God can bring you a husband!” And, as far as I can tell, that’s a load of B.S.

You don’t eat dinner once to the point of satisfaction and never eat a meal again.

God doesn’t work that way. He doesn’t dangle the deepest desires of your heart out in front of you, just waiting for that magical moment when your chakras align and He can send Mr. Right to your doorstep. He is not waiting for me to reach some point of maturity, signaling that I have earned a right to get what I want.

But He is faithful, even when my deepest desires remain just that – a desire. Desire means “to long or hope for.” A definition that insinuates you don’t have the thing.

And the thing my refrigerator is telling me right now is that He, indeed, is faithful.
And that it is okay to continue hoping for that which I do not have.

He is faithful in His ordinary presence.
He is faithful in the gift of His people.
He is faithful in unexpectedly fulfilling the desires I so deeply long for.

I told my friend recently that I truly don’t know what to do with all of the love inside of my body for the miniBFFs in my life. (Shoutout to Annie F. Downs for that oh-so-appropriate term.)

It is difficult to comprehend why God would allow me to be ordinarily present in their lives.
That I can show up on a Tuesday night because I forgot my coat and be tackled by a toddler.
That another can ask his mom why I still haven’t taken my picture from his house to bring it to mine (even though he told me I had to keep it there…).
That with just a look these little people are the face of God Himself to me.

The gift of presence is that my longings matter.
My wants matter.
My heart matters.

And God is not unfaithful to give me what I want.

He gives me exactly what I want in ways I never knew I wanted them. And my refrigerator is reminding me of that tonight.

bonus points if you can pick the 2 that say happy birthday.
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Aug 21 2020
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Identity, Relationships

like a child

To get the obligatory statement out of the way: 2020 has been weird.

Did you guys know we’re going through a global pandemic?

As Charles Dickens would say, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…”

We all kinda know why it’s the worst of times. But in so many ways, it has been the best of times for my lil heart.

When all of this started going down, I was so scared. Scared of being alone. Scared of losing momentum in relationships. Scared of tiny virus particles that seems to have 8947208 different narratives on what to believe about it.

But in the midst of my fear, Jesus is showing up. He showed up initially through relationships saying, “No, you’re not going to be alone, we’re ordering dinner so come over.”

He showed up through the slow process of digging in the earth and watching what was planted bloom.

He’s showing up through a renewed rhythm of time with Him.

And in that rhythm, He’s teaching me what it is to come to Him like a child.

People were bringing little children to him in order that he might touch them, but the disciples rebuked them. When Jesus saw it, he was indignant and said to them, “Let the little children come to me. Don’t stop them, because the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” After taking them in his arms, he laid his hands on them and blessed them.

Mark 10:13-16 (CSB)

Receive this like a child.

Kayla, watch the little children that are in your life.
Watch them go directly to their mother and ask for exactly what they want.
Watch their parents interpret the barely-there words and the points and grunts, and know exactly what their child needs.
Watch them get hurt, and unashamedly weep in the shoulder of their mom until it all feels better – whether that be 5 seconds or 5 minutes.
Watch them be told no, and still find their comfort in the one that gave them that answer.
Watch them find joy just by looking at your face.

Receive Me like these children.

I have tattoos. One of my favorite things is when the little guys in my life notice them. One tried to blow the candles out on my newest addition and it was the most hilarious, sweetest thing in the world. Then he tried to peel it off like a sticker and we had to talk about gentle hands.

I digress.

Tonight, a little one caught the word “Beloved” peeking out of my t-shirt and asked about it. I slid my sleeve up and before I could say anything he asked, “Does that say ‘Kaka’?” (That’s my name – don’t wear it out).

And, going against every instinct to correct him, I simply answered, “Yes, that does say my name.”

Because I’m learning to listen to my God call me Beloved.

I’m learning to receive the kingdom of God like that sweet little child.

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Nov 06 2019
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Identity, Relationships

proving myself

Well, this one has been sitting in my drafts folder, just titled and all alone, for a week. I’ve tried to stay away from it but alas, here we are.

A week ago I got the keyboard out to start writing this one based on a cycle I was stuck in with a friend. You see, I have this really fun tendency to over-explain myself in every sense of the word. It’s almost like I feel like I’m going to get caught even though I know I’ve done nothing wrong. So, when I’m not in a healthy place emotionally, I jump on my wordy hamster wheel and just talk and talk and talk myself around whatever I’m doing.

Luckily, I have really great people in my life and the one I was spiraling with stopped me and said, “Stop trying to prove yourself to me. You’re fine. I trust you.”

And man, what a relief that was. To have people who know the path you’re headed down and can keep you from it is such a gift.

The bummer is that this isn’t the first time my friend(s) have had to say something like that. But again, the gift is that they do. And so it seemed the cycle had halted.

Enter: Saturday.

I visited my family to celebrate my Grandma’s 92nd birthday and while I was there my sister, nephew, boyfriend, and I went for a lil’ afternoon hangout sesh at the local watering hole. One of the beautifully awful things about growing up in a small town is that everyone knows everyone and you can’t go anywhere without running into someone you grew up with. I say it’s beautifully awful because 1) what a gift to be in such a tight knit community, but 2) what a terror to know that everyone knows everything about who you were from ages 0-18/19/20.

So naturally, in walks someone I went to high school and played sports with. I introduced her to my boyfriend and immediately said, “We played basketball together and she was better than me.”

Cue my insides exploding.

Here I was again, trying to – in a backwards way – prove myself. I had to get it out there that I knew my place and I knew that she was better than me but it didn’t bother me (except oh yes it did). I could feel the 17 year old in me writhing with insecurity as this person got the recognition I longed for. All those years of trying to prove myself on the court, in the classroom, with the friend groups came flying back into the present and they were not.fun.

I laughed it off with my sister, rolled my eyes at myself, and went back to staring at my nephew because little boys are the cure for everything.

When I returned home and back to my normal life, recounting the weekend with a friend, she mentioned a similar instance from her weekend. She said, “It was like I was on the outside and I couldn’t figure out how to get in.”

And with that I exclaimed a loud, “YES! SAME!”

But here’s the kicker with it all: I am absolutely in love with where I am “in” in my life. God has been so kind to place me on the inside of so many beautiful relationships, and honestly, He has also been so kind in keeping me on the outside of others. Yet, the insecurity of knowing I’m on the outside of some places can be so deafening at times. Having physical voices loud enough to drown out the lies of the enemy has truly proven to be God’s grace poured out on my life.

I have no idea how to end this blog. No real bow to tie around it. It’s just a lot of strewn together thoughts about how destructive the urge to prove myself can be.

And for now, that’s totally fine.

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